


Feverish Blades

by BuruRaven



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: But Know That I Prefer Viktor 100 Times Over, Canon Compliant Up To The End Of Season 1, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt Victor, Hurt/Comfort, Implied sexy times, I’m Using Victor Instead Of Viktor Because The Wiki Says So, M/M, Sick Fic, Sick Victor, worried Yuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 13:09:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12169518
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BuruRaven/pseuds/BuruRaven
Summary: “Don’t… cry…”, Victor wheezed, a very cold hand touching Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed that he was crying, “It’s alright.”, Victor whispered comfortingly.This fic pushed its way into my head when I least expected and I ended up having to write it down, all in one go. Don’t worry, Once Upon a December's updating schedule will not be influenced by this. (^_~)You can also find this fic on my tumblr,here.





	Feverish Blades

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Yuri!!! on Ice. Yuri!!! on Ice is the property of MAPPA and Avex Pictures, and is not my intellectual property. There is no financial gain made from this, nor will any be sought. This is for entertainment purposes only.

⛸

 

Yuuri stirred uncomfortably in his sleep.

He half-heartedly fought with the bed covers, but the uncomfortableness remained. As his level of consciousness increased, the more uncomfortable Yuuri became, feeling sticky, flushed and smothered. It was like his back was plastered to a long wall of embers, his pyjamas damp along the line where he was touching said wall. Said breathing flesh wall.

He tried to roll away from the sleeping man holding him from behind, but there was an arm heavily hugging his chest.

Yuuri whimpered softly. Victor was too hot. Literally.

“… Vic-toooor…”, he mumbled sleepily, feebly pushing at Victor’s arm, to no avail. Victor didn’t even stir.

“Too hot… Let go…”, Yuuri pleaded louder this time, insistently pushing at Victor’s arm.

Victor groggily murmured something unintelligible and shivered, pulling Yuuri closer against him.

“Ngh… no! Victor…!”, Yuuri complained, now decidedly fighting against the other man’s embrace.

Victor finally let go of him and turned on his back with a scratchy sigh, sleep apparently undisturbed.

Yuuri inched away from the human furnace that was his fiancé, idol, adversary and coach and once again gave in to exhaustion. It had been a long, tiring day of practice.

 

⛸

 

Yuuri woke up in the morning to a symphony of deep, noisy breathing. He immediately recognised Makkachin’s soft snores at the feet of the bed, but was slightly surprised by the other sleeping noises. Victor didn’t usually snore.

Rubbing at his eyes, Yuuri slowly sat up in bed and grabbed his phone to look at the time there. His eyebrows shot up in pleased surprise. He hadn’t woken up as early as this in a long, long time. Not on his own, at least. And he felt rested, too. He should take advantage of this rare opportunity!

Yuuri was about to wake Victor up, but hesitated, hand frozen few centimetres from the other’s shoulder.

 _Wait, this is odd._ , he thought.

Except for the rare occasions in which he was hangover, Victor would always wake up before Yuuri. Contrary to him, Victor was an early bird through and through, loving to practice while the morning was still young, the earlier the better. Normally, Yuuri would either wake up to an empty cold bed or to a face full of Makkachin’s tongue.

Victor hadn’t gone drinking the previous night, though, so this was quite odd.

Carefully leaning over the sleeping form, Yuuri observed Victor’s unconscious face.

Jaw slack, mouth slightly ajar, Victor would seem nearly comatose if not for a wrinkle right between his eyebrows. It didn’t look like a very peaceful sleep. There was a raspy, sticky noise accompanying Victor’s slow, deep breaths. He seemed to be having a little trouble breathing. Perhaps he had a congested nose.

 _It’s probably a cold._ , Yuuri thought, slightly concerned,  _Better to let him sleep it off, then._ , he decided.

As quietly as he possibly could, Yuuri got up and went about his morning routine, getting ready to leave Victor’s house for practice, like he’d been doing for almost two months now.

When he was ready, Yuuri silently opened their bedroom door to let Makkachin back to his still sleeping owner.

Now that he had been fed and had relieved himself in the backyard, Makkachin agilely jumped onto the bed and nestled close to Victor’s chest. Victor didn’t even stir.

Yuuri came close to the bed, setting a glass of water, two ibuprofen tablets and a tissue box on Victor’s bedside table.

Then he stood there for a second, looking worriedly at Victor’s unconscious face, listening to his breathing.

Careful not to wake him up, Yuuri slowly knelt by his head and dropped a light peck on Victor’s brow. He froze, worry suddenly swelling in his chest. Had it been his imagination or was Victor nursing a fever? As if on cue, Victor shivered.

Yuuri gnawed at his bottom lip. Perhaps he should stay with Victor after all…

_“I want you to do your best, Yuuri. Prove that you are good enough to surpass me. Believe me, I will not make it easy for you just because we’re…”_

Yuuri blushed desperately, waves of intense evoked embarrassment muffling the rest of Victor’s sentence in his memory and pulling Yuuri back to the present and up to his feet. With a nod, he decidedly walked out of the bedroom and out of the house.

 

⛸

 

“NO! THAT’S A DISGRACE! STOP.”, Yakov bellowed, “Start over, Georgi.”

Honestly, what was he going to do with this boy…

They both knew he had the talent. But, ever since the nasty break up with that girl Anya, that Georgi’s performance had become incredibly inconsistent. They’d work on a flaw for weeks, only to turn back to something that had been perfect before and had suddenly gone haywire, fix it and be faced once again with the flaw they’d just corrected before that.

Yakov sighed tiredly as Georgi fell on his back after yet another flubbed jump. The boy had to find his way. And fast.

If only Georgi could find someone like Victor had found Yuuri…

Yakov let his gaze slide to the other side of the rink, where Yuri and Victor were engaged in some sort of jump competition, Yuuri and Mila watching them and lively chatting between themselves.

Yakov had never seen Victor this focused before.

Talent had always come naturally and nearly effortlessly to the silver-haired skater. Which meant Victor often felt like he didn’t have to practice as much as everyone else to still get better results than everyone else. Which, Yakov hated to admit, was true and often made coaching Victor a ridiculously frustrating affair.

But, ever since Yuuri’s arrival, Victor’s posture had changed. Coaching and being coached at the same time had loaded Victor with a higher stress dosage and, consequently, had forced him to focus more on each individual role. And he’d been tirelessly excelling in both.

Despite Yakov’s best efforts, he really couldn’t hide the pride he felt towards Victor Nikiforov.

The same Victor Nikiforov who had cheerfully arrived late to practice today. Yes, Yakov had almost forgotten about that…!

Yuuri had informed them of Victor’s apparent cold this morning and the older skater hadn’t uncharacteristically shown his face at the rink before lunch. Still, Victor had happily declared himself healthy and jumped right into his skates with a kind of explosive energy Yakov had only seen on him once before.

As Yakov threw instructions Georgi’s way, he observed Victor catching his breath by the corner of his eye. After a combination jump, the silver-haired skater was slowly sliding on the ice, leaning with his hands on his knees. Yakov had observed Victor assuming that same resting position quite a few times that morning.

“Alright! Take a break Georgi. Ten minutes.”, he called towards the frustrated-looking skater that was again sitting on the ice after yet another fall.

Yakov started walking towards the other skaters, noticing that Victor was again leaning in on himself on the ice.

“Come on, Old Man! Is that all that you’ve got?”, Yuri teased, skating a circle around Victor’s wheezing form.

As Yakov came closer to the group, he started noticing how pale the side of the face not obscured by Victor’s hair looked. He was also taking his time catching his breath, one hand hugging the bottom of his left ribcage as if in pain. Yakov frowned, wondering if he should start worrying about a second “Appendicectomy Disaster”.

He apparently wasn’t the only one noticing that there was something quite not right about Victor.

“Victor? Are you alright?”, Yuuri asked, already skating towards him.

Yuri had stopped circling Victor and was now leaning in front of him.

“Oy! Victor!”, he said, pushing at Victor’s left shoulder.

The push hadn’t even looked all that strong but it was enough to make Victor stumble backwards and, quite inelegantly, fall onto the ice.

“Damn it!”, Yakov growled, picking up his pace.

“Victor!”, Yuuri shouted, alarmed, kneeling by the other’s head and pulling his upper body onto his lap.

“I didn’t- I barely touched him, I swear!”, Yuri said franticly, also kneeling on the ice.

Closer now, Yakov could clearly see the blue tinge to Victor’s lips, as well as the glassy edge to his eyes.

“Mila, call an ambulance!”, Yakov commanded, “You two, help me take him off the ice!”, he instructed the Yuris.

“No- I-”, Victor wheezed, as he was pulled upright, right and left arms over Yakov’s and Yuuri’s shoulders, respectively. He was burning up. They could feel it even through their clothes.

“Shut up, Vitya. I can’t believe you did this again. Wasn’t last time enough of a learning experience? You’re not a child anymore, how can you still be this stupid?”, he lectured over the sick skater’s feeble words.

“What… what is going on?”, Yuuri asked him over Victor’s drooping head, face vary pale, tear-filled eyes, clearly panicking.

Yakov belatedly realized he had spoken in Russian.

“Never mind, he was just verbally abusing Victor.”, Yuri told Yuuri, shuffling slightly from his position carrying Victor’s legs, “Though I support his every word.”

Victor wheezed louder between them. They all looked at him, alarmed. Smile on his face, eyes scrunched up in obvious pain, Victor was trying to laugh. Yuri punched his shin and he started coughing.

It was a deep, raspy cough. Yuuri panicked further.

They carried him out of the ice and away from the peering eyes of the few people that had been watching their practice.

“Alright. It sounds like a pulmonary infection. So, sit him. Prop him up, yes like that.”, Yakov told the Yuris as they helped him deposit and properly arrange Victor on a bench in the changing room, “Is that ambulance coming?”, he asked Mila, who was awkwardly standing by the door.

“Y-yes.”, she replied.

Georgi’s head popped inside the room as well. He looked concerned, but didn’t say anything.

For a moment, no one spoke and Victor kept wheezing and coughing on the bench. Then, Yuuri bent down to take Victor’s skates off.

“Don’t… cry…”, Victor wheezed, a very cold hand touching Yuuri’s cheek. Yuuri hadn’t even noticed that he was crying, “It’s alright.”, Victor whispered comfortingly.

“IT’S NOT ALRIGHT!”, Yuuri screamed, surprising himself with his sudden outburst, “Why didn’t you say that you were not feeling well? Why did you lie and say you were fine then pushed yourself needlessly like that?”

Victor stared at him wide-eyed, a drop of sweat tumbling down the side of his very pale face.

“I’m… sorry.”, he wheezed, looking sincerely contrite and surprisingly vulnerable, like a little child who’d just been reprimanded.

Mila, Georgi and Yuri chuckled. Even Yakov smiled at the exchange, but he sobered up the moment the paramedics entered the room.

 

⛸

 

It turned out that Victor had a left lung lower lobe pneumonia.

He wore an oxygen mask, was put on intravenous antibiotics, analgesic medication and had to stay in the hospital bed for a few days.

During that time, Yuuri learned from Yakov and Georgi all about the “Appendicectomy Disaster”. Which hadn’t been that much of a disaster, all things considered, but could’ve ended terribly.

Apparently, Victor had been nursing a painful appendicitis during his last Junior Grand Prix Final, hiding the pain from everyone and going as far as winning gold while under intense pain. He had also behaved very cheerfully, being described by everyone as suspiciously too energetic during the whole event.

It had been only when the Russian team was leaving for the airport the next day that he’d finally collapsed from the pain and had to be urgently committed to a local hospital for emergency surgery.

As he walked, footsteps echoing on the white-walled corridor, Yuuri wondered if that was why Victor had never elaborated on the tiny surgical scar Yuuri had accidently stumbled upon when he was kissing…

He blushed desperately, waves of intense evoked embarrassment stopping the rest of that memory and pulling Yuuri back to the present.

With a grounding nod of his head, he decidedly walked inside Victor’s hospital room.

Victor was being released today.

 

⛸

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> If you enjoyed this, please let me know by kudo-ing it or by commenting bellow. (^_^) I love kudos and comments! If you want to put a smile on my face, that's the way to go.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Feverish Blades II - Back Home](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12206115) by [EmeraldInALocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmeraldInALocket/pseuds/EmeraldInALocket)




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